Cactus Boy Chapter One, a voltron: legendary defender fanfic

Keith likes cacti more than flowers.

Sure, having lived above his cousin's flower shop for the better part of his life, he may be a little biased against the bundles of petals and leaves sprouting out of the ground. But, honestly, could you really blame him? After all, living with a botanist cousin obsessed with the pungent pollen producers could only bring you so much positivity—especially after having done so for twelve years. It was only inevitable that Keith would eventually drift away from flowers' sweet scents and instead have his interest piqued elsewhere.

That being said, Keith definitely didn't expect that that elsewhere would be cacti. Neither did his botanist cousin. But after being gifted one for his birthday, he discovered that he loves the fact that he can own real plants without the hassle of having to give them extensive attention. He supposes that's why his interest in flowers dwindled so quickly: maintaining their pristine condition is too much work for him. On the contrary, the cacti Keith has only need to be watered a very minimal amount, and he assumes they don't need special soil or fertiliser to survive. (His obsession hasn't extended so far as to ask his cousin what's the deal with the growth of his cacti—yet.) Their pots don't need drainage holes, so they never make any mess on his desk. They're the perfect plant for someone like Keith, and he knows it.

Soon after being gifted his first cactus, Keith bought another one of the same size. Then, he bought a slightly bigger one, afterwards a teeny-tiny one. Soon, his bedroom's little windowsill became lined with some spiky, some soft succulents, all of which varied in size. He became quite fond of them, actually. He named a few of them, though he never told anyone. He would never be able to live that down.

The only thing that upsets Keith when it comes to his cacti is the fact that his cousin's flower shop doesn't sell them. According to his cousin, there's no space left in the shop to start selling a couple of potted cacti. Keith understands this perfectly, for whenever he stumbles downstairs each morning, he almost always slams into a cluster of flora his cousin conveniently places right in front of the staircase simply because there's nowhere else to put them. After having lived with him for twelve years, Keith still doesn't know how his cousin manages to arrange everything in a way that it all fit in the shop yet is simultaneously pleasing to the eye.

But Keith, sceptical as always, constantly raises his eyebrows at this whenever it crosses his mind. Couldn't his cousin find a little spot on the cash register counter and sell one or two? Yes, he knows orders don't work like that – it's either in bulk or none at all – but still. He had the mindset that if he could buy and collect a couple dozen of cacti, then his cousin could, too.

Despite his scepticism, the whole thing doesn't bother Keith too much. As long as he has his cacti and doesn't have to constantly look at flowers for his entire life, then he's perfectly content.